


A kiss from the fire

by Evil_Keshi



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Cop Jon, Established Relationship, Firefighter Tormund, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-18
Updated: 2019-07-18
Packaged: 2020-07-08 04:01:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19863151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Evil_Keshi/pseuds/Evil_Keshi
Summary: Jon is too brave for his own sake sometimes, so of course he runs headfirst into the house on fire when he hears that a little girl is trapped upstairs. It doesn't matter that he isnota firefighter.





	A kiss from the fire

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone! A little oneshot I felt the urge to write last night, so here it goes. Enjoy your reading!

  


It's nearly three in the morning and Ygritte is sipping her third large and over-sugared coffee of the night when they get the call about the fire. It's only a few streets further down their current location and Jon only needs to glance at his partner before she nods, gets the sirens blaring and slams the accelerator down to the floor.

"Control," Jon says into the radio, holding it close to his mouth as he recites his and Ygritte's patrol number, his eyes focused on the view beyond the window to spot the flames, "We're on it."

"All right," the dispatcher's voice cracks, "Establish a perimeter, the fire brigade is on its way."

"Received," Jon answers, before he sets the radio down and looks to his right.

Ygritte heard and they don't need words to be on the same page, so it's not a surprise when she speeds up again, her features hard and focused. They both know that a fire quickly catches attention and tends to gather people up, so they need to arrive before the firefighters do if they want to clear the perimeter and grant them easy access. Easy access means faster intervention, which could save lives or salvage what can be.

Jon nearly jumps out of the car before Ygritte has a chance to kill the engine and call in their arrival when they make it to a neighbourhood of London where the houses are tall and narrow, close to one another, and a heavy weight settles in his stomach at the sight of one of the roofs, ablaze and spitting angry flames in the dark night sky. A light wind is blowing tonight, light but strong enough to fuel the fire, and a thick column of smoke rises, hiding the stars.

"Shit," Ygritte says behind him, "Firemen had better be arriving quickly."

"Yeah," Jon agrees in a breath, before his gaze drops from the roof to the street.

It takes a few seconds to analyse the scene unfolding in front of the house. A small group of people has gathered, some panicking on the phone and others staring at the fire in shock, theirs hands covering their faces. The sound of the flames cracking, hissing and licking at the wood grows louder and frightened screams echo in the night, so Ygritte and Jon quickly advance, spreading their arms to coax the crowd into stepping back.

"Police, back up!" Ygritte yells, her hair the same colour as the flames above their heads, "We need to keep this area free for the firemen. Back up!"

They comply fearfully, a few people protesting that they live in the adjacent houses and absolutely _must_ retrieve some of their most prized possessions just in case the fire reaches their home, but Jon pushes them back in a heartbeat. 

"Your life is more valuable than your grandma's jewels!" he snaps at a man when the guy tries to slip under his arm, "Step back! Now who lives in this house? Is the tenant here?"

As if that question was all fate needed to turn this night into a real nightmare, Jon and Ygritte hear a scream behind them - a woman, her voice breaking as she stumbles out of the house on fire, and Jon runs toward her, catching her right before she collapses on the ground.

"Can you hear me, madam?" he asks, supporting her with an arm around her waist to move her away from the house. "Are you the only one home?"

She shakes her head, clutching his arm, and tears pool into her wide, terrified eyes. Jon swears he can feel his heart slow down and then, stop altogether.

"My... my little girl," the woman cries, "My baby girl! I tried to... I tried to get her but I..."

She trails off, dissolving into sobs that shake her whole body, and Jon barely makes out a weak _upstairs, please_. Shit. The woman is clearly giving him directions, begging him to do something and... Shit, shit, shit. A little girl, trapped in a burning house.

"It's alright," Jon tries, but his mind is wild, calculating, already bracing itself for what's to come. "The firefighters are on their way, they will... Ygritte!"

His partner turns around, still keeping the crowd at bay, and he yells:

"What's the fire brigade's ETA?"

"Two minutes!"

So much can happen over the span of two minutes... Windows could explode, wooden beams collapse, or the floor, and the little girl... No, not under his watch. Jon gently entangles himself from the woman's grip and turns, heading for the house.

"Jon!" Ygritte shouts behind him, "You bloody idiot, what do you think you're doing?!"

She knows, of course. She knows him too well not to understand what he plans on doing, so he runs before she can try to catch him. He's a fool, he's aware, but he also doesn't want to let a baby girl die alone in a fire.

He expects the heat as he enters the house but damn, he didn't expect so much smoke. It stings his eyes, fills his lungs, and Jon coughs as he squints, glancing left and right, trying to notice the stairs through the greyish atmosphere. There. He looks up, feeling like all hell has broken loose as he takes in the paint peeling away from the walls, the small explosion when the flames reach a lamp.

One hand held in front of his face for protection, Jon climbs the stairs, nearly missing the last step in his haste, and he bumps into a door that collapses under his weight. He can hear cries but can't locate them and he has to hurry, he knows, because the intensity of the fire has doubled, at least that, and he has to get the girl, he...

He falters in his steps. He can't see much anymore and his throat prickles so much... Outside, he thinks he can hear sirens, firemen's sirens, and he only has a few seconds to feel relieved, before a joist falls behind him, opening a hole in the floor, and he jumps aside just in time. He has to get away from there, he has to find the little girl and run before it's too late. Jon crawls, coughing as he goes, trying to follow the cries... He can still hear them and he holds onto that hope: as long as she cries that means that she's okay, she's alive, and...

Two wide green eyes blink at him when he turns around a corner and steps into a bedroom with koala stickers on the walls. The girl is right there, her cheeks red and glistening with tear tracks, and Jon's heart breaks a little.

"Hi, little lady," he rasps out, carefully taking her in his arms, settling her against his chest, and she starts crying again. "It's okay, it's okay... I'll get you out of here."

At least he'll try. Going downstairs proves to be even more difficult a task than going upstairs; each breath he takes fills his lungs with more toxic gases than oxygen, and his sight is turning black at the edges, his legs cramping. Feverish, he manages to open his jacket almost all the way down and keeps the baby tucked inside, her tiny nose protected from the smoke as much as can be, but... He's not sure they'll make it.

Jon isn't giving up, he is _not_ , but when more beams detach themselves from the roof and fall before him, crushing the few stairs in front of his feet and leaving a wide, burning gap before the next ones, he has to admit it. He's stuck.

"No, no, no..." he whimpers, holding the precious bundle closer to his chest, "Please, no..."

"Over here!" someone suddenly yells.

When Jon looks up, through the painful tears that run down his cheeks, he sees the silhouettes of several firemen, dressed in gear and wearing helmets and masks. He knows the voice that called him but he can't allow himself to revel into the comforting familiarity of it, not now, he has to think of the baby first - but it's so hard to focus, he'd just like to sleep and...

"Jon!" the firefighter screams, "You have to jump! Come on, quickly!"

He doesn't think, doesn't need to look where he's going to land, because he trusts the owner of that voice with his life, so he obeys. Jon closes his eyes and jumps, twisting his body so that the baby doesn't get crushed, and all breath leaves him when his back hits something large and solid, screaming of reassurance even when the house around them is on fire. In a second, he's lifted up and carried, doesn't know where, can't focus anymore, he just needs to breathe...

Suddenly, the fire in his eyes goes away, replaced by an inky sky, and he hears sirens and cries. He's laid down and harsh light attacks his eyes, he narrows them, can barely distinguish the ceiling of an ambulance, though they're not moving.

"Baby..." he croaks, letting his arms fall down to his sides, and he feels hands working at his jacket, then a light weight is lifted off - before an oxygen masks covers his mouth and nose.

Exhausted, he lets himself be taken care of, too weak to protest anyway, and he breathes in, slow and deep, trying to listen to what's happening around him while EMT's make sure that he doesn't need a trip to the hospital and dab something cool around his eyes. Jon dozes off before he can fully comprehend what's going on around him.

  


  


When he comes to, everything sounds calmer outside. The sirens are silent, though he can see the blue lights still dancing over the facades of the houses across the street, and he's still lying down. Next to him, two worried-looking redheads have taken the EMT's seats. He doesn't dare glancing away from his colleague, his eyes set on her police uniform and not on the fireman's.

"So you're truly alive," Ygritte grunts, though there's affection hidden somewhere in the deepest depths of her tone, "Don't ever do this again, you arsehole!"

Jon coughs instead of answering, just to see if he can make her panic a little, but she just narrows her eyes at him. Defeated, Jon sighs.

"The little girl?" he enquires softly, his breath leaving steam on his oxygen mask.

"Alive and well, thanks to you," she says, her voice softer than before. "I'll piss off now, so you two can... talk. Don't yell at him too much, Tormund, he looks like shit already."

"Aye," Tormund grunts, and Jon finally looks at him from under his lashes.

The firefighter is still in full gear, although he's taken off the helmet, the mask and his gloves. When Jon tries to take off his own mask, Tormund glares at him.

"Alright, alright," he relents, dropping his hand as well as his gaze.

He waits for Tormund to say something, anything, to yell at him like Ygritte expected but when nothing comes, Jon carefully looks up. The redhead's eyes are red but unlike Jon, smoke isn't the reason behind it: the remaining fear that Jon can see in Tormund's blue orbs makes a lump rise in his throat.

"I'm sorry," he utters, "I didn't mean to..."

"Do you have any idea," Tormund interrupts him, taking his hand in his own, his skin warm except for the golden band around his ring finger, cooler to the touch, "how I felt when I came here and Ygritte told me you'd gotten inside the house?"

Jon winces.

"I know, I... I'm sorry. I couldn't let the baby..."

"Bloody hell, I know that," Tormund growls, "but you're a policeman, Jon, not a firefighter! You can't just go in and hope everything will be alright! If we hadn't been there... If we'd been a few minutes late..."

"I know," Jon repeats, his voice small.

"Come here, love," Tormund finally says, carefully tugging on Jon's hand until he can sit up, before he wraps his arms around him and cradles his head until it's buried into his neck, his fingers running through the thick curls.

It feels nothing like the caresses they exchange on the couch while watching a movie, relaxing together after their day at work, nothing like the tugging underneath the sheets, when they're moaning into each other's mouth, and nothing like the affectionate touches whenever they pass each other by in the house. Tonight, Tormund's fingers in his hair speak of fright and relief, fear of losing the love of his life and solace upon hearing his heart beat in an echo of his own, steady against his chest.

"We both have dangerous jobs," Tormund whispers against his ear, his beard tickling Jon's sensitive skin, "You don't need to run any more risks. I..."

The strength in his voice suddenly wavers and his next words come out so quietly that Jon has to strain to hear them.

"I don't want, one day, to lose my kids' father to a fire I wasn't there to put out," he says, his fingers tight on Jon's neck, "You hear me?"

"I hear you," Jon confirms in a murmur. "I was thinking of them, you know? The girls. Thinking how, if this ever happened and our daughters were trapped in their bedroom, how I'd wish someone did what I did tonight."

If possible, Tormund's grip around him tightens even more, though he's careful not to crush Jon's thorax. Still, Jon grunts and slowly shifts, until the redhead gets the message and allows him to back away from his embrace, albeit reluctantly.

"Kiss me," Jon says, taking off the bloody mask, "properly."

"No more running into houses on fire," Tormund gives his conditions first, which has Jon pulling a face. "Promise me, Jon. I wouldn't go chasing a bank robber, so don't go rushing into the fire, ever again."

They both know that Jon would do it all over again if given the chance, he's got too big a heart to stay on the sidelines and watch, but he nods and Tormund accepts it. He trusts Jon not to willingly jeopardise the future of their family - and after all, Jon is not the only one who should be careful. Tormund knows better than anyone that the next fire he goes to fight could be his last, if he's careless.

He pushes the thought away for now, welcomes Jon in his arms and cups his face to place a reverent kiss on his mouth. He feels him wrinkle his nose and yes, they both smell like burnt bacon and Jon's lips are dry but somehow, this feels like the best kiss he's ever shared with him. After the fear Jon subjected him to, he needed this, the comfort of Jon's warmth against him, and Tormund inhales sharply through his nose when the shorter man gently bites onto his lower lip and tangles his fingers into the fire of his hair.

They need a bath, a few tall glasses of water and a good night of sleep, but Tormund can't bring himself to even consider moving away now, not when Jon's free hand searches then finds his own hand, entwines their fingers, and their wedding rings meet with a soft noise. He was lucky tonight, he knows, so he kisses his husband deeper, and prays that no fire other than the one in their veins ever comes between them again.

  


**Author's Note:**

> I hope you liked this short story! As always, feedback is greatly appreciated. If you are interested, I'm on Twitter at [@evilkeshi](https://twitter.com/evilkeshi) or on Tumblr at [like-a-bucky](http://like-a-bucky.tumblr.com/). See you there, perhaps!


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